


Danger, Will Robinson

by redjacket



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redjacket/pseuds/redjacket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre ties Grantaire up. </p>
<p>That's it. That's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danger, Will Robinson

“What’s your safeword?”

“Robinson.”

Combeferre stopped to look at Grantaire and run his thumb gently over his cheek. “Are you sure about this?”

Grantaire couldn’t meet Combeferre’s eyes. He didn’t fight the impulse to drop them. “Yes.”

Combeferre paused. Grantaire fidgeted. He was going to call it off. He was going to... 

“What’s your safe word?”

“Robinson.”

“Danger!”

Combeferre’s tone was so deadpan he startled a laugh out of Grantaire. It relaxed him and he meet Combeferre’s eyes, smirking. Combeferre smiled back.

“Are you sure, R?” Combeferre asked again. 

Grantaire nodded. “I’m sure. I want this.”

“Okay,” Combeferre said. His hand slid to Grantaire’s shoulders and pressed down. “Clothes off and folded.”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire said. He couldn’t help smirking as he did so. Combeferre had pulled him back up and made him think, he was just going to have to deal with it. Grantaire never folded his clothing, it drove Combeferre crazy and he always, always started scenes out this way. Grantaire liked to say it was the biggest power trip he got out of it.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow at him and Grantaire tried to smother his smirk. Combeferre shook his head. “Kneel down.”

Grantaire did, hands at his side, waiting. Combeferre stood so close beside him Grantaire could feel his body heat. His breathing hitched and he exhaled slowly. Combeferre slid his fingers through Grantaire’s hair, from the crown of his head all the way down to the nape of his neck, scratching just hard enough for Grantaire to feel it but not enough to hurt.

Grantaire groaned, and pressed his face against Combeferre’s leg, already getting hard. Combeferre did it again. Grantaire shivered. Combeferre kept his hand where it stopped, pressing lightly on the back of Grantaire’s head.

“Safeword,” he said. 

Grantaire looked up at him. “Robinson.”

Combeferre smiled. “Good boy.”

He scratched Grantaire’s head one last time. “Hands behind your back.”

Grantaire did as he was told. Combeferre’s hands trailed over his shoulder. He pushed Grantaire’s knees slightly further apart and straightened his posture, rearranging Grantaire the way he wanted him. He left his wrists for last, kneeling behind Grantaire and repositioning them so he was more comfortable. He bent to press a kiss to Grantaire’s palm.

“My good boy,” Combeferre said. He kissed Grantaire’s shoulder.“My perfect boy.”

Then the tie was there, being wrapped around his wrists and secured firmly. The fabric was soft and Combeferre’s knots were, of course, perfectly positioned so they wouldn’t strain Grantaire’s arms or shoulders too much. When he was done, he stroked down the curve of Grantaire’s shoulders and stood, keeping his hands on him as he walked around him. Grantaire tested the fabric binding him -- he couldn’t help it -- but there was just enough give not to hurt, nothing more. 

Combeferre’s hand cupped his jaw, forced his head up to look at him. “How does it feel?”

“Good,” Grantaire said, mouth already going dry. Just looking at Combeferre like this made everything go quiet inside his head, never mind the way his thumb was stroking along Grantaire’s jaw. “Feels good, sir.” 

“I’m glad,” Combeferre’s eyes crinkled when he smiled and Grantaire flushed, proud to have pleased him when he could feel how closely Combeferre was watching him. Combeferre’s fingertips traced the line of his blush. 

“You’re so good for me,” Combeferre said. “You look gorgeous like this and I haven’t even gotten your lips around my cock yet.”

Grantaire’s mouth parted and he moaned. “Please.”

Combeferre’s hands fell away but only for a moment. Only long enough to open his unzip his pants and take his cock out. One hand tangled in Grantaire’s hair and he pulled him forward: “Suck.”

Grantaire obeyed, moaning happily around Combeferre’s cock as he sucked on it. Combeferre only gave him a minute to get used to it before his fingers tightened in Grantaire’s hair and he began pushing his cock further into Grantaire’s mouth. Grantaire tried to relax his throat, helpless to do anything but take it. Combeferre’s other hand stroked the line of his jaw, thumb rubbing circles at the joint, helping him relax. The dichotomy of harsh and gentle turned Grantaire inside out. He groaned and sank down further, faster, tried to sink into Combeferre all together. 

“That’s it,” Combeferre said. He pulled Grantaire back, let him breath, then pressed him forward again. “You’re doing beautifully, R. Your look obscene with your mouth stretched around my cock. You’re practically begging me to let go and fuck it, aren’t you? There’s nothing you love more.”

Grantaire would have begged if he could have. He sucked down harder on Combeferre’s cock, shoved halfway down his throat, instead. He needed to make Combeferre feel good, needed to please him. Combeferre let him suck him like that for a minute or two before forcing him back down, beginning to fuck Grantaire’s throat in earnest. Grantaire wanted to beg but he couldn’t, couldn’t even moan, too full of Combeferre’s cock to do anything but lean forward into his touch, begging for more with his body, desperate to be good, to be used. 

Combeferre pulled back before he came, leaving Grantaire dazed and whining, his hair still gripped in Combeferre’s hand. His throat ached and there was spit at the corner of his mouth and on his chin as he gasped for breath. His eyes stung and his face felt hot.

“Look at you,” Combeferre murmured. Grantaire cringed, slightly, because he knew...he knew what he looked like...he knew... “You’re beautiful, Grantaire. You serve me so well. Your mouth is exquisite. I could feel you pressing forward, so eager for my cock. I like you like this, unable to do anything but lean into my touch. You’re beautiful and you’re mine. Exactly where I want you.” 

Grantaire’s breathing hitched and Combeferre bent forward to kiss him, plundering his mouth until Grantaire was panting. Grantaire wanted to clutch at him but he couldn’t, could only let Combeferre pull him up and envelop him and lean into his touch. 

“Good boy,” Combeferre said, wiping Grantaire’s face clean of the access spit and the tears that had leaked out of his eyes. “I wanted to come down your throat. I always do. You suck my cock so well. But I promised I would fuck you and I don’t break my promises, do I?”

“No, sir,” Grantaire said, his voice hoarse. 

“And my good boy wants to be fucked, doesn’t he?” Combeferre said. “He deserves to get what he wants.”

“I...yes,” Grantaire said. He couldn’t look at Combeferre. Combeferre didn’t force him. He knew this was the hardest part. “I deserve to get what I want.”

Combeferre’s hand scratched against his scalp again and he kissed Grantaire, more gently, but firm. Grantaire closed his eyes until there was nothing, nothing but Combeferre’s mouth on his and his hands holding him close, holding him exactly where he wanted him. 

“Good,” Combeferre breathed against his lips. "I'm going to put you on the bed now. I'm going to put you on your knees and push down your shoulders and then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t even beg anymore. Until nothing exists but my cock in your ass. Because that’s what you want. That’s what you need.” 

Grantaire nearly sobbed. “Please.”

Combeferre pulled him to his feet. Grantaire wobbled but Combeferre had him. He didn’t let him fall. Grantaire didn’t resist as Combeferre positioned him on the bed, ass up, his shoulders braced with pillows. He didn’t try to help when Combeferre spread his legs wide, exposing his hole, just keened when Combeferre spread his cheeks and teased the rim with his thumb. Grantaire had prepared himself before they started. He was already stretched open and ready for Combeferre’s cock.

He choked and jerked when he felt Combeferre’s tongue pressing inside him instead. Combeferre chuckled and rubbed his hand down Grantaire’s thigh. 

“You can come whenever you want,” Combeferre told him. “I want you to. I want to fuck you through it and make you come again.”

Grantaire whined and tried to spread his legs more but then Combeferre’s tongue was fucking into him and then his fingers were pressing in and nothing mattered but that, but the relentless press of Combeferre’s mouth and hand inside him. There was nothing touching his aching, leaking cock, he couldn’t move, couldn’t even thrust his hips comfortably, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except Combeferre three fingers deeps and holding him open and his tongue hot and thrusting and...

And Grantaire was coming and shouting and Combeferre finger fucked him through it until he was shivering, over sensitive and whining but then Combeferre was pulling his fingers out and Grantaire didn’t want that, didn’t like that, needy still and desperate and Combeferre had promised and... 

“Shh, eager boy,” Combeferre said, gently pulling his fingers out. Grantaire was gasping as Combeferre’s fingers tangled in his hair for a moment and he kissed the outer curve of Grantaire’s hip. Grantaire could hear him finish getting undressed, though he never moved far enough away from Grantaire to lose the feeling of his body heat. “I know. I know you need to be fucked. I know you need my cock. You’re desperate for it. And you’ll get it, I promise. But you look so gorgeous like this. You’re so open for me. So perfect. I love you like this.” 

Grantaire felt the blunt head of Combeferre’s cock pressed against his hole and tried to press back against it. One of Combeferre’s hands grasped his hip, stilling him completely, while the other guided his cock. Grantaire sobbed once when he felt it press inside. Combeferre was steady, sinking deeper with a slow, easy glide until he bottomed out and then staying there until Grantaire was half mad with the need to be fucked, for him to move. When he did it was just as slow, just as torturous, letting Grantaire feel every inch of his cock as pulled out, leaving just the head inside. He kept it up until Grantaire was hard again and begging him incoherently to just, please, please, fuck him. 

Grantaire screamed when Combeferre’s hands tightened on his hips and he obliged, driving into Grantaire hard and fast and relentless. One hand wrapped around Grantaire’s cock and stroked him roughly, making Grantaire cry out. It was too soon, it hurt, it felt wonderful and Grantaire couldn’t move into it or away, the position was too awkward. He could only take it, Combeferre’s hands and his cock and everything, everything he wanted, everything he needed. He didn’t feel trapped, he felt taken, owned and used and fucked and Combeferre’s. Combeferre’s to have. Combeferre’s to fuck. Nothing but Combeferre’s. 

He came again, screaming Combeferre’s name. Combeferre swore, fingers too tight on Grantaire’s hip, pressing bruises into Grantaire’s skin as he followed Grantaire over the edge, holding them both up through his last erratic thrusts. 

Grantaire felt hazy and quiet and sore and good. He whined when Combeferre pulled out, fretting at the loss of heat surrounding him, inside him, until Combeferre pulled him into his arms, tucked safely against his chest. He let Grantaire rest there for long moments, running his hand through his hair and down his back soothingly, before reaching down to untie his hands. Grantaire hissed when they were released, the soreness rushing him all at once, and tried to burrow himself further into Combeferre’s hold. 

“You were wonderful,” Combeferre said quietly. He started massaging Grantaire’s hands and arms, up to his shoulders, easing the tension in them from being tied for so long. “You were so good for me. You submit so well. I love you. I love you so much, R. You’re perfect. You’re so perfect for me.”

Grantaire turned enough to bury his face in Combeferre’s chest and just stayed there for awhile, breathing. Combeferre understood, shifting so he could continued rubbing Grantaire’s shoulders and speaking to him softly, letting Grantaire be quiet for as long as he needed. 

Eventually Grantaire could turn his face and look at Combeferre again. Combeferre smiled at him, his expression soft and encouraging. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and handing it to Grantaire. Grantaire sat up enough not to spill and drank it all in one go. 

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely, when he was finished. He leaned back against Combeferre and Combeferre wrapped his arms around him. “That was good. I like that. It felt good.”

“Mmm,” Combeferre hummed. He rubbed Grantaire’s throat gently for a moment and kissed his temple. “I’ll make you some tea later.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fussing.”

“That’s what I do,” Combeferre said, sing-song and Grantaire laughed. Combeferre kissed him again, on the mouth this time and slowly. Grantaire sighed into it and relaxed back into his lover’s hold. 

“It was good for you, right?” Grantaire asked, a little embarrassed. “I mean, you enjoyed it?”

“Oh, very much so,” Combeferre told him, smiling. “You’re wonderful. I love you like that and I love you like this and I love you --”

“All the time, I know, you’re so cheesy. I can’t believe you get this cheesy. You learned it from Courfeyrac, I swear, and if you kiss me on the nose, I’ll --”

“Blush and enjoy it,” Combeferre said but he didn’t. He kissed Grantaire on the lips instead, ignoring his scowl and enjoying the way Grantaire was still pressing into his hold. They wouldn’t move apart until he was ready to and he wasn’t, not yet. 

“I’m glad that worked for you,” Combeferre said, seriously. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Grantaire flushed a little and pressed a fleeting kiss to Combeferre’s chin. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I normally don't do this, or write this fast but I saw something on tumblr and then this happened. I hope the person it's for feel's better soon!
> 
> There's also a back story to this porn without plot and, uh, here it is!
> 
> (They had found out Grantaire did not like being tied up the hard way. He liked it when Combeferre held him down, when he put him on a leash and controlled his movements. He liked it when Combeferre dictated exactly how he could move and when and punished him for anything extraneous. It had made sense, when Combeferre suggested tying him to their bed. Grantaire had agreed. He had been eager to try it and slightly annoyed, as he always was, at how much negotiating Combeferre insisted they do before they got to the fun stuff.
> 
> But then they had and everything went wrong. Grantaire knew was soon as Combeferre secured his wrist to the bedpost that he didn’t like it but that was stupid. He should like it. It didn’t make sense for him not to like it, he liked every other way Combeferre restrained him. 
> 
> Grantaire tried to get into it, tried to ignore how it didn’t feel right, as Combeferre secured his other arm. Combeferre noticed, of course, because he was Combeferre and he could tell Grantaire wasn’t where he needed to be. He asked if Grantaire was all right and he didn’t believe Grantaire when he said he was fine. He stayed with him, petting his hair until Grantaire was okay -- kind of. He still didn’t feel right but he was close enough to calm that Combeferre stepped back to take his clothing off...
> 
> And Grantaire panicked. 
> 
> He didn’t know why. He still didn’t know why. It was sudden and intense. As soon as wasn’t right there anymore it felt like he couldn’t breath. He felt trapped. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t breath. 
> 
> He didn’t remember Combeferre particularly ripping the ropes off as he struggled against them. He didn’t remember safe wording -- because he hadn’t, hadn’t even been able to remember it past the panic. The next thing he knew the ropes were off and he was scrambling into Combeferre’s arms. Because Combeferre was safety. And Combeferre was love. And Grantaire couldn’t think of anything but hiding in that warmth for the rest of his life. 
> 
> It scared the shit out of both of them. 
> 
> It had taken weeks before they talked it out enough that Combeferre was comfortable doing another scene. Months before either of them were comfortable getting back to where they had been before. Over a year, before Grantaire even broached the idea of tying his hands together, just his hands, not securing him to anything else. It was something he suggested. Something he wanted, even if it made him slightly nervous. 
> 
> Combeferre agreed. Eventually. But Grantaire knew he was ready to call the whole thing off immediately if something went wrong.)


End file.
